


I Want to Break Free

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28221996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Kenny McCormick is a janitor for a living, trying to let loose with a few college students he had befriended at work when he meets a fellow blond with a goofy name, who is equally bored with the party scene. The chance meeting sparks a deep bond and a chance to reveal those skeletons in their closests.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	I Want to Break Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonereedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonereedy/gifts).



> this is an older story but my sweet friend lonereedy gave me the delicious idea of butters being taller than kenny and i just?? had to make it a thing?!??? thank u for talking to me about ships and hcs and being an amazing human being!!!  
> thank u so much for reading (:

After another agonizingly long day of mopping up piles of coed-bile and discarded solo cups, Kenny is beyond relieved to party with a few college-going buddies. Stan and Kyle, Stanford's back-up quarter back and a critical theory major, have convinced him to spend the night letting loose and imbibing copious quantities of cheap weed and cheaper beer. They had befriended the young janitor after he found them curled up in a drunken corner in the dorm, Stan plastered out of his mind and Kyle on the verge of diabetic shock. They are incredibly (sometimes ignorantly so) encouraging him of giving himself a break from his fourteen hour work days. 

Kenny emerges from his personal dorm that the college provides him in return for his dedicated janitorial duties dressed in a grey hoodie beneath an age worn jean-jacket and tattered black denim pants, a refreshing change of pace from his full-body work uniform with 'Ken' embroidered onto its chest. He is not entirely sure of the condition of his fair hair that swept across his forehead in subtle waves, but he's sure he would be disappointed. It has been since the beginning of the semester that he had drunken himself unconscious or smoked himself stupid. His committed work ethic and need to send home financial support for his younger sister and older brother prevented him from making any choices that would prevent him from completing his job with high-quality and efficiency - and if he let himself, he could easily get carried away. But tonight, he will allow himself to do so. 

"Don't you look good out of uniform." Stan comments Kenny's attire on entering Kyle's dorm. 

Kenny winks, "How good, babe?" 

"You guys, please make sure that Cartman kid doesn't fucking talk to me tonight," Kyle exhales, bustling about his desk and shuffling discarded papers. "All he does is make ugly, anti-Semitic comments at me." 

Stan chuckles, "Why don't you just kick his ass?" 

"Because he's a buck-twenty soaking wet." Kenny teases, instantly enduring a punch in the arm from the admittedly scrawny Kyle in retaliation. 

"I could if I wanted to," the jokingly offended redhead assures, "But there's no point. I'm ignoring him because all he wants is a rise out of me." 

"Very diplomatic of you," Stan encourages. He is dressed a bit more casually than Kenny is accustomed to - a grey, knit beanie over his jet-black fringe, a Denver Bronco's t-shirt adorning his torso, and some black sweatpants keeping his short legs (Stan's biggest insecurity) warm. 

Kyle was clad in a large, grey sweater and black skinny jeans. His ginger hair was perpetually unruly to no fault of his own as he was a victim of the generations of curly haired genes. Despite Kyle's negative opinion, it was a great feature about him, as well as his deep, chocolate eyes and prominent cheekbones. Kenny had thought that both of his friends were considerably attractive individuals since he met them (which may or may not have been a contributing factor to his desire to help them in their rare form). 

"Which party are we going to?" Kenny inquires with humor laced into his tone. There is a party in every dorm almost every night. He wouldn't complain about it, however. Multitudes of drunken college preps projectile vomiting and spilling various types of alcohol all over the hallways and bathrooms inevitably pays the bills. 

"My friend, Clyde's. He's from the team," Stan answers, gesturing out the window. "He's posted up right across from us. He claims he's got medical grade shit, but I don't necessarily believe him. Can't hurt to go over, though." 

Kyle nods at his logic and lets out a deep breath, "I can't believe you talked me into this partying bullshit again. I am only taking one hit. If that. And no alcohol." 

"Oh, c'mon, Kyle," Kenny taunts, "You're the one always telling me I gotta loosen my corset, aren't you? It's your turn, too." 

"He's right, Ky. Don't be a hypocrite." Stan adds. 

Kyle rolls his eyes, a common action of his, "Fine, but you guys are dragging my ass back here when my system is devoid of insulin." 

Kenny shrugs, "What’re friends for?"

The three head over the adjacent hall, discussing their day and laughing at their peers that had already began enjoying their Friday night via booze. While Kenny is sexually attracted to all genders, it is sometimes a bit unsettling to see completely naked kids running through the dorms or couples blatantly having sex out in public. The college life is not for the faint of heart.

"Stan!" A brunette guy in a varsity jacket greets enthusiastically as the boys amble down the hall. Clyde (Kenny assumes) staggers past the group of bodies that impede his path to reach Stan, the light blue of his eyes almost entirely hidden by their bloodshot state. "Dude, this shit's fuckin' lit, c'mon!" 

Next thing Kenny knows, they're being dragged into a dorm that's occupied by two girls in the midst of a heated make-out session on one of the twin beds, and a large amount of cannabis resting on a wooden desk. Clyde snatches an acrylic bong from his mattress and tosses Stan a lighter. 

"How much?" Stan wonders, watching Clyde prepare the paraphernalia. 

He only cackles and shakes his head, "Man, I dunno, I gave the guy, like, two-hundred. I think I'm broke now. How much do you want?" 

Stan glances back at Kyle and Kenny with an inquisitive expression, but answers instead, "Five G's?" 

"Just give me a fifty tomorrow, man, I'll lose it." Clyde admits before approaching them with the now prepared bong. 

"I gotcha." Stan assures him before approaching the end with his lighter and inhaling the quick stream of smoke. 

After Kenny, Kyle, and Stan make it through a significant amount of their weed, they join the festivities in the corridor. There are about thirty adolescents crammed into the narrow space, screaming, singing, dancing, and/or competing in an intense game of floor beer-pong. It was somewhat horrifying to Kenny - considering he would habitually avoid the debauchery by sleeping away the stresses of his constant physical labor, and he is barely stoned. It unfortunately takes a lot to make him feel anything. 

As he watches Stan guzzle down his beer, already decently fried, Kyle starts conversing with a girl with identical majors as him. Kenny wants to think it's flirtatious for Kyle's sake, but the redhead is definitely not coherent enough to communicate in any understandable manner, and his friend is more than likely at the same place. Somewhat bummed out that he's not enjoying his night of recklessness as much as he thought he would, Kenny sips at a cup full of even shittier beer than he grew up stealing from his father. Perhaps the college scene isn’t for him. He is just destined to get hammered at the same bar daily betwixt unpleasant shifts at his disappointing job.

God, he is depressing. 

Kenny scans his honey brown eyes among the crowd of intoxicated geniuses when one in particular catches his attention. A boy with a shock of bright blond hair is slumped against a wall, twiddling his thumbs anxiously around a red Solo cup. Kenny can make out shimmering sky blue eyes from two doors away as well as sense his unease. While his interest was initially piqued due to the boy's attractiveness, he's doubly relieved that he's not the only uncomfortable person in the vicinity. 

While he's entirely coherent, the gram of marijuana he inhaled gave him just enough buzz to obtain an air of confidence. He waits a moment, (not so) casually staring at the boy to see if he would meet his glance. For the most part he keeps his eyes fixed on the carpeted ground, or on a certain couple of party-goers he must know. Kenny finds the fake smile he grants his friends absolutely adorable. 

It seems like forever when the boy finally meets Kenny's eyes. Seizing the opportunity presented to him, Kenny maintains the contact and cracks his charming grin, his dimples prominent in his freckled cheeks. It takes a second for the boy to realize he is being acknowledged, but surely he does, and his entire face earns a red tinge. He swiftly casts his gaze back to the ground and tugs at his bottom lip with his two-front teeth. 

Kenny pushes himself away from the wall and strides in the other boy's direction. Flirting is never something that makes him uneasy, but by the expression of sheer discomfort on this adorable guy's face, he is a bit more nervous than usual. Nonetheless, he approaches him and claims the space beside him. 

It was so much more enjoyable to see him up close. Kenny has never seen a more alluring pair of eyes, a cuter side-shaved haircut, or a sweeter button nose. He can't help but smile widely all over again, cocking an eyebrow at the puzzled look on his face. "Not much of a drinker?" 

The slightly taller blond nods his head affirmatively, speaking in a vaguely high-pitched voice, "I-I just don't really like beer... Or, uh, vodka. Or whiskey, or that, um... bourbon stuff..." 

"It's definitely an acquired taste," Kenny chuckles, turning into him. He notices the tightened grip on his plastic cup and his wandering eyes. "So, if that's the case, why're you out here?" 

"My friends dragged me." He replies. 

The blond gestures towards to other boys, both shotgunning a beer can. One is abnormally tall, and the other is yet another blond, hair laying in a mess of bright curls. They're staggering into one another for support glancing over at their supposed friend every so often. 

He continues to say, "I ain't really much of a party-goer in general." 

"I can say the same now," Kenny agrees. "What's your name, fellow anti-social butterfly?" 

The boy smiles - and this time, at least Kenny hopes, it's genuine. "I'm Butters." 

"Butters?" Kenny repeats curiously. "That on you birth certificate? Like Sodapop and Ponyboy?" 

Butters laughs softly, "No, _Leopold_ is on my birth certificate. But, my folks have always called me Butters for some reason." 

"I take it you're not a fan of either." Kenny infers, attempting the nearly impossible task of being hear over the speakers blasting Lil Yatchy throughout the corridor. 

Shaking his head and turning ever so slightly towards Kenny, Butters retorts, "Not particularly, but Butters is what everyone calls me." 

"I'll go against the grain then, Leo." Kenny assures him with a smirk. He felt just a _bit_ clever for the cute shortening of his real name. 

"And what does everyone call you?" Butters wonders, an even deeper shade of crimson creeping across his flawless skin. 

Kenny shrugs, "Depends. Most people round here call me ‘janitor’, or 'Hey, dude, can you mop up the piss someone took all over my floor?'. Friends call me Kenny." 

"Kenny?" Butters repeats, an adorable mocking expression adorning his face, "Is that on your birth certificate?" 

Kenny smirks, "If we're being technical, it's Kenneth, but nobody wants to fuckin' call me that. The jumpsuit I wear for fourteen hours a day says Ken." 

"Ken... I think that's the best option," The other blond hums.

Kenny glances over his shoulder at Butters' friends, gesturing with his thumb, "So why did Einstein and Giving Tree leave you alone?" 

Butters cackles aloud at Kenny's descriptions of his friend and sighs, "Like I said, I ain't much of a party-goer. They're too high-drunk to pay attention to me. Which I'm not mad about or nothin', I just kinda wish I could leave, but I don't want them to get sore at me." 

Kenny hums, "You hungry?"

He seems perplexed by this inquiry at first. Granted, it's quite understandable for someone to wonder why a boy they had met ninety seconds ago is asking about their hunger levels. "Uh, sorta, I guess... Why?"

"Just tell them you're getting something to eat. Then they can't argue." Kenny reveals his logic. 

Butters chews a lip, "I assume you're taking me somewhere?" 

Kenny simpers up at him. "Only if you accept my offer." 

He pauses, gaping over at his friends, then back up at Kenny. There was something convoluted in Butters' eyes - as if he was attempting to swiftly over-analyze the situation at hand. Butters speaks unsurely, "Are you, like..." Kenny lifts an eyebrow. He's pretty confident he knows the predicate of the sentence, but he plays dumb for good measure. He finally sputters, "Uh, gay?" 

Amused, Kenny replies, "Mostly. What about you?" 

"Well, uh, I mean, I-I am, but Tweek and Craig over there are the only ones who know... And now you, I guess..." Butters reveals, returning to the nervous habit of twiddling his thumbs. 

Kenny grins, "Well, don't worry, I won't out you. I'll keep my flirting to a minimum just to maintain the confidentiality." 

Butters rolls his eyes endearingly, attempting to downplay how eager he is to be led away from the bustling students sloshing their alcohol onto the floors that Kenny would soon have to mop up. He is whisked away before he has the opportunity to inform his friends, but he's confident that they wouldn't comprehend anything at all at this point in the night. 

As they escape the sweaty, claustrophobic environment of the party, they are relieved to be surrounded by the light, chilly air of the night. Butters smiles unconsciously at the beautiful pavilion that is left vacant other than a few stumbling teenagers. The street lamps and the half-moon looming over their heads provides just enough illumination to admire the well-manicured lawn and various types of potted flowers living in the midst of the central, benched area. The atmosphere is a main reason that Butters chose Stanford over his other options - considering he earned major scholarships to just about anywhere. 

"Wait a second," Kenny ends the non-verbal streak after a thought broke unto his head. "Did you say your friend's name is Tweek?" 

"Yeah," Butters confirms with a slight nod. "Tweek Tweak." 

Kenny gapes at him in disbelief for a moment, "Like, as in meth?" 

The smaller blond frowns, "Yeah, I guess. I know he's not on meth himself, but he sure does act like it sometimes. He's real nervous." 

Humming, Kenny shakes his head, "I've definitely heard the most interesting names tonight." 

Butters grins, "Only, Tweek actually is on his birth certificate." 

Their eyes meet again, and Kenny can't physically help but be drawn to something about Butters' face - perhaps it is his eyes, but it could just as easily have been his toothy grin and pink lips. He doesn't necessarily feel overly giddy and uncontrollably smiley as most pubescent crushes cause, but he indubitably feels something strong, urgent. Kenny possesses an odd and overwhelming desire to know every detail of Butters' life and personality. He's also entirely cognizant of the possibility of Butters being super creeped out if he has the uncanny ability to real minds. 

Kenny snaps out of his daze, smiling, "His parents sound like fascinating people." 

"I couldn't confirm or deny that, I only just met him this year." Butters replies. His glance stowed between the path ahead of them and up at Kenny's face. He's never met a freckled blond before, and he oddly can't stop thinking about counting the tiny marks littering his creamy skin. 

"You a freshmen?"

Butters nods, "Sure am. It was pretty rough at first, but I think I'm getting a handle on everything... The classes are so much harder than I ever expected." 

"I bet. Stanford's a good school, though. You'll be rakin' in bank in no time. Or, so I've heard." Kenny scoffs as he reaches into his coat-pocket for a cigarette. 

The other boy watches intently as Kenny plants the rolled-up tobacco stick between his lips and squints as he precisely presses the lighter to the end. He replies, "Yeah... So, how'd you get the janitor gig? Seems kinda random for an 18 year-old." 

Kenny chuckles behind a stream of polluted air emitting from his lungs, "I'm 20. And I had, uh, connections. I know a professor." 

Butters perks his head to the side, "Really? Who?" 

"You got Professor Adler? I think he lectures about some type of super specific theory bullshit that only 10% of the human population can even pronounce." Kenny answers. 

"Nah, haven't heard of him," Butters tells him, to Kenny's somewhat relief. "You sound like you ain't too fond of college." 

"You sound like you don't use proper grammar, like someone who is fond of college." 

Butters lets out a giggle and shrugs his shoulders, "I'm a good test-taker, s'the only reason I'm even here." 

They make it across campus and begin to head down the street. Kenny has fantasies about burgers from his favorite diner dancing in his head as he and Butters amble side-by-side down the concrete pavement. The majority of the strip of menial business is closed for the night, but on the corner the word _Peterson's_ is bright in neon letters. Many a night has Kenny spent in that bar, wallowing in the misery of being a working-class citizen and taking advantage of the dollar cups of coffee. 

Kenny wonders aloud, "How do you only make it into an Ivy League school via test scores?"

"Well, Stanford's not technically Ivy League," Butters gingerly corrects him, "But, I'm guessing getting a 34 on your ACT is a guarantee into anywhere." 

Kenny's eyes widen, "Well, damn. I didn't even take that shit." 

As they approach the diner, Butters suddenly becomes hyperaware of the situation. It looks very much like a date. Kenny is even holding the door ajar for him to pass through. He slowly screws his eyes to the (gorgeous) smiling boy in front of him, and his heart punches him inside his chest. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he enters anyway and allows himself to be seated at a booth across from Kenny, shuddering to imagine what would happen if his parents suddenly decide to visit at this moment. 

"Ever been here, Leo?" Kenny inquires as they scan the menu. 

Butters shakes his head no, stifling a grin at his new nickname. "I can't say I have. What'dya recommend?" 

Humming, Kenny sets down his own plastic pamphlet with various depictions of comfort food. Tapping his finger against Butters' menu, he explains, "If you like burgers, definitely that. But if you're a vegan or whatever, I'm pretty sure their fries didn't have a mommy at any point, and they're pretty good." 

Butters giggles slightly, "Come here often?" 

"Why, yes, I do." Kenny winks. 

"Oh, hush," Butters rolls his eyes, grinning none the less. "I guess I'll have to have the burger, then." 

As if on cue, a middle-aged waitress strolls from behind the kitchen door and in their direction. Her cheeks are as red as her hair, but she looks much nicer when she flashes Kenny a smile, "McCormick! Missed you last night." 

Kenny returns with his charming, all-dimples grin that causes Butters to melt despite not even being aimed at him, "Unfortunately I can't loiter every day." 

Chuckling dryly, the waitress glances over at Butters and cocks a well-maintained eyebrow, "Your date for tonight?" 

"Absolutely," Kenny answers before Butters has a moment to even think. "Isn't he cute?" 

The redhead hums sardonically, "Blink twice if he's holding you hostage." 

Butters laughs awkwardly along with Kenny before they put in their orders. As the waitress scurries off Butters pins him with an inquisitive expression, "Date, huh?" 

Kenny smirks, fiddling with a salt shaker, "Date is a very fluid term. People really don't use it right these days." 

"What's your definition?" 

The shorter blond pauses to dust the salt grains from his hands. Light, honey brown eyes flutter to meet Butters' blue ones. If he looks closely, he can see some kind of ridiculous sparkle - like something straight out of a Disney film. Kenny is a prince, and Butters is a little angry at how enchanted he's become, yet the lip ring resting on the right side of his face adds an element of danger. He wonders if Kenny is aware of how alluring he is, and this is why he's whisking Butters away to a shitty diner and smiling at him as if he's made of gold. He's doing this on purpose. 

Shrugging, Kenny speaks, "Two people having a burger while checking each other out. So, it's definitely a date from my end." 

Butters squirms. Never in his life as an actual boy blatantly flirted with him. His sole relationship took months to develop. There was so much beating around the bush and second-guessing. With Kenny, however, everything was put on the line. For Christ's sake, he met the dude twenty minutes ago. "I-I guess me too..." Butters tries not to whimper. "But, if you wanted to make this like... a regular thing, I..." 

"Can't?" Kenny fills in the blanks, and receives a nod in confirmation. He chews and swallows this statement before smirking to himself decidedly. "We'll see about that." 

_ 

Butters can't remember the last time he had felt happier. 

Somehow or another, the boys had gotten onto the topic of various liquids pouring from one's nose due to laughing so hard, and Kenny managed to do so with Coke. He teared up from how uncomfortable the carbonated beverage felt emitting from his nostrils as Butters cackled like a hyena. Their entire pseudo date consisted of behaving like toddlers and irritating the few, tired fellow customers around them. 

"I can't believe you did that," Butters shrieks with laughter as they reenter the college campus. The festivities are thankfully not as frantic on Butters' side of the dorms, but the obnoxiously loud bass could be heard bumping through the dark night. "I bet that waitress hates you now." 

Kenny chuckles along, "Eh, she'll get over it. I'm sure they're glad I give them consistent business in the first place." 

"It's a nice little place." Butters defends the diner as they reach his dorm. Fixing his gaze on the familiar combination of numbers and letters above his door, he bites down on his lip. There's an overwhelming twist in his gut telling him to turn around and stay with Kenny for the rest of the night (or year), but his half-finished annotated bibliographies are compelling his logical appeal. 

"This you?" Kenny questions, pointing towards the door. 

Butters nods abashedly, his eyes full and shining down at Kenny. Kenny can't help but feel a bit disappointed - it was the best night he had in so long, and it was coming to a drawl. It was beyond rare to find someone like Butters; kind, adorable, innocent, funny, and most importantly, into guys as well. He wishes more than anything it could last just another hour, especially considering Butters' unwillingness to date. 

Despite all odds, Kenny posts his palm to the wall besides Butters' head, reeling close and trapping him in a soft but intent gaze, "When can I see you again?"

Butters shifts back against the plaster wall, feeling scrutinized under Kenny's blazing eyes. If only he were ugly or irritating, it would be so much easier for him to shrug and say, "I-I'm not sure if I can..." 

Kenny sighs softly and perks his head up at him, "What's stopping you?" 

"I just - I can't, okay? Don't make me feel bad." Butters huffs and forces his gaze onto the carpet. "It's nothing against you, it's just... There's just some things I can't do, and dating is one of them." 

Nodding, Kenny pauses to let this information seep in. Unfortunately he's always been a stubborn fucker. He flicks his gaze back to Butters and smirks, repeating, "We'll see about that." 

With this conclusion, he presses a lingering kiss to Butters' cheek before spinning on his toes and trotting towards the exit. He can feel his heart racing against his ribcage, a feeling rare and reserved for girls or guys that he has actual _interest_ in. Kenny promises himself then and there that he wouldn't let this particular college student slip away so easily. 

When Kenny returns to his dorm it's nearing three in the morning. Yawning, he doesn't even bother to change out of his clothing before slumping down onto his mattress. Ignoring the fact that he has to be up before eight in the morning, he falls into a deep slumber with thoughts of Butters' obnoxiously adorable laugh playing through his head. 

"Butters Stotch?" Stan asks for clarification, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Sounds fake." 

"Wait, is his real name Leopold or something?" Kyle asks, finally peering up from his essay. 

Kenny nods enthusiastically, "Yeah! Blond kid, probably Stan’s height,"

Humming in actualization, Kyle continues, "Yeah I have child development with him. It's my fluff class." 

"Makes sense. He doesn't seem that into college. But he got, like, a thirty-four of his ACT or somethin' crazy like that." 

Kyle's eyes practically bulged out of his skull. "A thirty-four?! I started studying for the ACT since I was nine and I only got a thirty-two!" 

"That's still way above average, Ky," Stan, the receiver of a twenty-five, reminds him. 

"Still!" Kyle grunts, returning his attention to the laptop resting between his thighs. 

Kenny purses his lips and glances back at Stan, "We hung out all night and flirted a little and then at the end he's like 'I can't date sorry'. Like, why not?" 

"Maybe he doesn't want to be in a relationship so he doesn't feel obligated to come out." The noirette frowns. 

Pushing out a heavy sigh, Kenny lets himself slip halfway off of Kyle's mattress. It's been two days since his encounter with Butters, and he remains incapable of getting him out of his head. He had been nonchalantly looking for him all over campus. The thoughts and memories of this one boy circle his mind like a record. Whether or not that was really creepy, he didn’t care, but he was fully aware of the absurdity of the matter. Never had he become so interested in someone so quickly—he wondered if the weed had a stronger effect on him than he had realized.

“Yeah,” Kenny sighs and stands to his feet, glancing at the _Spongebob_ wrist watch that he borrowed from his young sister. “I gotta go clean more toilets. Later.”

“Bye, Kenny.” Kyle calls with a kind smile, eyes remaining glued to the screen before him.

“Have fun.” Stan remarks.

After flipping off his dark-haired friend, Kenny exits the dorm room while buttoning his uniform back over his white undershirt. More than anything he wishes to rest his eyes a little longer before completing the remaining five hours of work in store for him. It’s a ten-minute walk to his boss’s office and thus the timeclock. A forty-five minute break barely gave him a suitable amount of time to reach Kyle’s dorm or his own, whichever he chose to spend his time. Kenny finds it incredibly frustrating—especially when he is forced to cross paths with all of the anxious, jovial, and/or hungover college students that are having the time of their lives or working towards a career that pays considerably more than fifteen-dollars an hour.

“Kevin,” The gruff voice of Kenny’s employer, Ron, announces from behind his busy toothbrush mustache.

“Kenny,” The blond corrects for what feels like the thousandth time, wishing he would stopped being mistakenly called by his brother’s name as his mother did his entire life.

Ron ignores his correction and barks, “Get to Wilbur Hall. Some kid broke a mirror in their dorm.”

“Jesus, how?” Kenny creases his eyebrows together as he slides his card back into the time-clock.

“Temper-tantrum, it sounds like. Apparently he punched it.”

Scoffing, Kenny pulls his cart brandishing various cleaning products and tools, “What room?”

“22G.”

Something seems very familiar about that dorm. Kenny picks through his brain to place the room to a person or event, and when he finally does, his stomach drops. 22G is Butters’ dorm.

“Shit,” Kenny whispers to himself and picks up his speed.

He makes it to Wilbur Hall and enters hastily, attempting to appear more casual than he feels. Leaving his heavy cart near the bottom of the stairs, Kenny choses a broom and dustpan and begins the familiar journey to Butters’ dorm.

All the way down the hall, the sound of a bellowing adult can be heard. Kenny’s expression contorts into a confused one—not many Stanford kids allow their parents to visit outside of specifically scheduled parent days (those days his job was much easier). In turn, those parents don’t usually chew them out loud enough for the entire floor to discern. The closer he came to 22G, however, the louder it grew.

“You just don’t get it, Butters!” the man shouts. “We are paying hundreds of dollars a month for you to come here for you to get a _C_! We’ve sacrificed so much for you to get a good education and in return we get absolutely no effort!”

“B-But dad, it’s the only C I got! The rest are A’s, c-check—“

“One C might as well be straight C’s,” the taunting voice overrides the familiar one. “You had better bring it up or we will be dragging you right back home to repeat senior year!”

“I don’t even think I can—“

“Excuse me,” Kenny interrupts the ridiculous exchange by tapping his knuckles against the door. “I’m here to clean up the glass.”

“Stephen—we should go…” A woman warns, assumedly Butters’ mother.

Butters’ father does not reply before swinging the door open to reveal Kenny behind. Stephen is a few inches taller than him, his light brown hair comb meticulously to the side. His eye color is identical to Butters’, but his are not intriguing and innocent. “Come on, Linda,” he snaps before addressing Kenny, “You should let Butters clean his own messes.”

With that the couple tramps off, leaving Kenny stunned in the doorway and Butters whimpering on his mattress. There is a trickle of blood emitting from a sizable cut above his eyebrow. Eyes red and puffy, voice week, he sighs, “I-I’m sorry about the mirror, Ken…”

“Don’t apologize. For anything,” Kenny huffs, letting the broom and dustpan fall from his fingers. He stalks towards Butters’ mattress and claims the space in front of him, scrutinizing the details of his injury and glancing at his knuckles to find them cut-free. His blood begins to boil. “Did your dad do this to you?”

Butters squirms at the accusation, but does not deny it, “It ain’t a big deal… I can help you clean it up, here,”

“No, no, no,” Kenny retorts, grasping his arm as they both stand. “You don’t get paid for cleaning shit on this campus up like I do. But you do need to come with me to get this cleaned up. C’mon,”

While he wants to argue with Kenny and insist that he doesn’t require assistance, he’s simply too weak and shook to do so. The janitor leads him down the hall and into the community bathroom. When they reach the sinks, he aids Butters in sitting on the counter and uses the rush of water from the faucets to wet a paper towel.

“Ouch,” Butters hisses as Kenny gently daps at the cut before whispering, “sorry, sorry,”

Kenny frowns, “There’s no need to apologize, Leo.”

“Sorry… oh, darn it,”

Chuckling, Kenny shakes his head, “You’re fine. And it doesn’t look too serious—you shouldn’t need stitches or anything. You should keep it clean, though, and take some pain meds. You’re gonna have a headache for a bit.”

Butters stifles his grin at being doctored by Kenny, “How’d’ya know so much about this?”

Kenny smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of cuts and bruises. Plus, my little sis is clumsy.”

Nodding, Butters glances back at himself in the mirror to see a very noticeable cut adorning his pale face. He sighs heavily, “I thought they wouldn’t be able to do this kinda stuff here…”

“Did this happen a lot at home?” Kenny tests, not wanting to overstep his bounds but simultaneously very curious as to the severity of the situation.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Butters wonders whether or not he should lie. Nobody else had ever witnessed his father’s outburst as closely as Kenny just had—and nobody had really cared as Kenny seems to. “It’s—it’s okay, really… I’ll be fine. I just need to get my grades up.”

As the taller boy shakily slides himself onto the floor the wires connect in Kenny’s mind. Sympathy and sorrow erupts from within him. _This is why he can’t date boys. This is why he’s still in the closet_ , Kenny thinks.

“Hey, Leo—are you busy tonight?” Kenny asks unconsciously before the other boy can escape him.

Butters whirls back around to face Kenny. He cannot decide how he feels about this boy, who was still practically a stranger, being privy to his most heinous secret. While he does not necessarily want pity or help, Butters wouldn’t object to receiving some support in that area—something that he had been deprived of his entire life. For some reason he could not explain, he sensed deeply that he could trust Kenny. Perhaps it was his kind brown eyes and the way they twinkled at him. Or, rather, his immediate instinct to aid Butters despite the fact that he was in the middle of his second shift of work.

He shakes his head negatively. Granting him a half-hearted grin, Kenny questions, “Can I see you again?”

Sighing heavily, a great deal of guilt and indignation arising from a simple request, Butters replies, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Ken… You, uh… You saw how sore my folks got at me for having a C, imagine—“

“I didn’t ask you for a date,” Kenny interjects with a technicality. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, in a purely platonic kind of way.”

“I… I guess that’d be okay…” Butters mutters in agreement, cursing the rush of giddiness he received from Kenny’s proposal.

With a knowing smirk, Kenny gives the jagged cut across Butters’ forehead one final consideration before biding him farewell and returning to work. Butters watches his new acquaintance retreat with an uncontrollable grin, which quickly fades when he screws his eyes up to his own doleful reflection again. What he sees is a figure that he has always absolutely despised for causing his parents to dislike him so much—it seems as though it could only be his fault that they were so cruel. Yet, he simultaneously feels incredibly pathetic for continuing to be deathly afraid of his father’s inevitable reign of terror. The mere prospect of how he would react if he discovered the thoughts that played through Butters’ head regarding Kenny sent unpleasant shivers down his spine.

_

“You’ve never even tried it?” Kenny is astonished to learn of Butters’ cigarette virginity.

Giving a small giggle, Butters gushes, “Well, I mean, _look_ at me!”

Kenny does. He sees a bleach blond boy, approximate five-foot-ten, an average height to accommodate his thin build without appearing gangly. Butters is clad in an oversize baby blue hoodie that brought out the deep blue in his enticing eyes—they easily give the shining full moon above their heads a run for its money.

Butters is not used to being outdoors after dark, considering his only form of social interaction is with an anxiety ridden studier and a video game addict; they generally prefer four walls surrounding them. But as for Kenny (he comes to learn), he cannot be confined to any space for too long. Stretching his legs, exploring the scenery, or simply feeling a breeze against his skin is a requirement to maintain his sanity.

However, this is not a casual stroll through the neighborhood as their last meeting. Kenny manages to con Butters into sacrificing a perfectly good study night for accompanying him to his apparently favorite get away—Gray Whale Cove. Butters might have heard of this place in passing, but never had he imagined a forty minute bus ride to finally reach an incredible beach. The water was crystal blue, the reflection of the sky’s decorations making it appear as though some stars have fallen into the water. The tide pulls in and out casually on the vacant stretch of sand. A large, mountainous cavern looms over them to the left, incasing the area as if delicately preserving it from the howling winds whipping their hair in ridiculous directions. 

Butters is breathless, forgetting entirely what Kenny had even asked him. This weightless feeling festers inside of him, like a cage around his heart has finally been released. Nothing but the smell of the ocean and Kenny’s cheap cologne fill his senses. He shuts his eyes tight, savoring the introduction to something new and perhaps unorthodox for him.

He’s returned to reality by a nudge from Kenny. Peeling his eyelids apart again and peering down, he sees that Kenny has procured a pack of cigarettes and is offering one. Before the pang of guilty contemplation can be considered fully by himself, Kenny states, “I’m definitely not trying to give you a nicotine addiction, but it’s your choice if you wanna see what it’s like.”

Swallowing hard, Butters squints down at Kenny, “Does it hurt?”

Puffing out a chuckle, Kenny shakes his head. Emptying his pockets for a lighter and finding rolled up gum wrappers as well, he replaces the cigarette into Butters fingers. He smiles at the innocently fearful expression splayed across his face and promises, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Leo.”

“I mean… I feel like I should,” Butters replies wistfully, peering between the rolled up tobacco and the extensive ocean before him. Another thought occurs to him that makes his eyes shoot open wide, “Are we trespassing?”

With a sly smile, Kenny shrugs and removes the cigarette from Butters’ hand and replaces it with his own. “C’mon,” he beckons as he stashes it behind his ear and begins taking strides towards the water. A combination of relief and reinstated fear flows through Butters’ nerves, but the generally negative aspects of these emotions dissipate when he notices how warm and rough Kenny’s hands are.

“Do you come here a lot?” Butters inquires as they carefully maneuver down the slight incline.

“Nah, I just usually wind up here when I need to be… You know?” Kenny responds. He too is feeling incredibly relaxed as well as completely in his element. Being secluded from society is his forte; but being in the presence of a cute boy in a beautiful, tiny section of his home-state makes it that much more incredible. The prior days of anxious waiting to perhaps bump into Butters in a random corridor are no more—they’re clutching hands, and he’s not objecting. Even if he came to his senses and began to do so, he would at least be certain his true feelings were shared.

Nodding at Kenny’s response and biting at his bottom lip, a facetious curiosity went through his mind. “Do you think we could swim?”

Kenny glances between Butters’ eyes and the water, both an incredibly inviting shade of blue. He grins stupidly, “I don’t see anyone trynna stop us.”

With a giddy shriek of laughter, the boys began tearing their shirts and jeans off and darting towards the vast blanket of tamed waves. A spark of adrenaline ignites within Butters as he races with Kenny at his side. He can’t recall a time he had felt this free—this downright _happy_. He wonders if he ever had.

When they reach the water it’s much colder than Kenny had anticipated. “Fuck!” he curses as his toes curl away from the shocking temperature of the ocean. Butters began chuckling madly again, this time at the other boy’s expense as he treaded quit painlessly a few feet ahead of him.

Rolling his eyes, Kenny justifies his actions, “Okay, I didn’t have hot water for showers until I started working here and now that’s all I’m fuckin’ used to. My body doesn’t like this.”

“Your body’s going to have to deal with it!” Butters exclaims, lunging forward and grasping Kenny’s forearm tightly. He swings the smaller boy backwards with just enough momentum to fall backwards into the icy waves.

Kenny barely has enough time to gasp in horrified anticipation before his head becomes submerged. When he forces himself to pop back out above the surface, the previously echoing sounds of Butters’ laughter becomes very clear. He glares at taller boy until he become preoccupied with taking in his clothes-less state. Butters’ stature is very underwhelming, but to Kenny, he’s perfect. He’s thin in most places and a little rounder about his stomach. Kenny has this somewhat innate desire to scoop him in his arms—so, he does.

“Kenny, put me down!” Butters chants in protest to being swept off of the sandy ground by a vindictive Kenny. Letting out a perhaps girlish shrill, Butters takes his turn in flopping beneath the water and returning to Kenny’s cackling.

After a decent amount of shoving each other beneath the water and accidentally-on-purpose grasping one another’s arms, hands, and faces, the boys decide they’ve had enough of the water and head out simultaneously. Kenny squeezes the droplets of liquid from is wavy fridge before replacing his shirt over his torso. Letting out a sigh, he glances to Butters to see a disappointed expression as he clamors with his jeans. Kenny pouts a lip, “What’s up, Buttercup? Why the long face?”

Butters sighs as he buckles his belt, “I just… I don’t really want to leave, honestly. Not yet.”

Kenny’s smile only widens, “You sure you’re not havin’ textbook withdraws?”

Smirking at Kenny’s comment, Butters seats himself beside him on the sand. Hundreds of grains have already managed to burrow within Butters’ shoe which he was only slightly annoyed about. How could he have been annoyed with Kenny sitting so close to him, staring out into the night sky as if he’s looking for his purpose and he’s destined to find it somewhere out there. He feels a huge swell of appreciation for this janitor that he had only know for a week. “Ken?” Butters addresses gently.

Kenny hums in acknowledgement, feeling suddenly appreciative of the name that appears across his chest for work. The college student continues. He cannot seem to get his point across as fluently as he wishes, but manages to begin with, “I, uh, I know you already know this, but I… I didn’t punch that mirror in my room.”

With the conversation’s downturn falls Kenny’s grin. “I know, Leo.”

“I figured. It just, it sorta felt good to say aloud… I _didn’t_ punch that mirror.”

The confession seems to lighten the load off of Butters’ shoulders; it empowers him to confirm what Kenny had already been aware of. Kenny recognizes this and encourages him to continue to mentally stand up for himself. “How’d it break, then?”

The other boy pauses, as if having a flashback and recalling all the details of this altercation in his mind. It isn’t fear or pain that creeps across his features—it’s anger. He furrows his eyebrows and spits, “My dad grabbed my hair and slammed my head against it. He still thinks I ain’t good enough when I’m going to a pretty prestigious college and making alright grades! I’m so tired of him always…” he trails off, the fire inside him beginning to dwindle as he thinks about a lifetime of emotional and physical torture.

“Always…?” Kenny presses gently, a combination of concern and morbid curiosity making him crave details.

Butters rubs his knuckles together nervously, gazing down and away from Kenny. He considers saying nothing more. Having never spoken of his horrible past before, he is reluctant to begin at the age of eighteen. Nonetheless, something about Kenny’s presence makes him feel safe to finally divulge his biggest secrets for as long as he could recall. He flicks gaze over to find Kenny’s warm, brown eyes are already staring. It’s inexplicable—he had known this boy for a week and a half at best. Yet, he’s so comfortable and feels support. Especially when Kenny gingerly snakes his freckled arm around Butters’ waist.

Clearing his throat, Butters begins with a sigh, “He just... He always says anything he can to make me feel stupid and small. It used to be a lot better when I was little—I’d just get grounded all the time for the smallest things. But, as I’m gettin’ older and older, it just seems like he hates me even more. He’s started yellin’ at me and callin’ me worthless some years back, and he never let me go anywhere. The only places I’d see other than my house was school and church. I never got to decide anything for myself and I just felt all dumb and pathetic. And my mom, she didn’t join in often, but she didn’t stop him, neither. She tried to kill me once, actually. She left me in a car that drove off into a pond…”—Kenny has to gasp at this revelation—”But, when I was about fifteen, things go real bad…” he pauses, and Kenny can hear that he’s starting to choke up. He rubs the small of his back comfortingly. “He, uh… He started smacking me real hard across the face. Then he started throwin’ things at me and cursin’ at me and whippin’ me everywhere with the belt… I was always so terrified of him, and I still am. But, I’m just so tired of being afraid of him, Ken,”

Butters turns towards Kenny, a lack of that usual uncertainty in his posture and expression, “I want to know what it’s like to live without him hurting me in some way.”

Kenny grins softly at him, “You will, Leo. Does he text you?” Butters nods grimly. “Block his number.”

Butters’ eyes went wide, “What if he—“

“That’s not your problem. You don’t owe him anything, and he shouldn’t get anything from you. You don’t have to if that’s really something you don’t wanna do, but I’m telling you, it’ll feel so much better. I know how it feels to cut shitty parents out of your life.” Kenny elaborates.

“How do you mean?” Butters wonders, perking his head up at Kenny.

Kenny shakes his head, a bashful smile stretching his lips, “I just know how you feel. It’s best to cut ties.”

Butters frowns, “Hey, I told you about all my skeletons. It’s your turn.”

“Fair enough,” Kenny huffs, pulling his arm away from Butters to support himself in sitting more upright. He stares out into the night sky and does his very best not to become instantly enraged. “When I was a kid, my parents were meth addicts on top of being alcoholics on top of being weed fiends on top of being dirt poor. My brother had to raise me, and I had to raise my baby sister because our parents would go to work and immediately turn around and spend whatever little money they made on drugs. They rarely acknowledged us after my little sister was two-ish, and if they did, it was to ask us if we had any cash or to tell us to get them a pack of cigs. That’s where I picked up my nasty habit from.

“They never really hit us or anything, but when my brother got older he’d get into a lot of fights with my dad and sometimes they’d go after each other, but they were both too drunk to actually do anything about it. So, I got a job when I was ten working at this restaurant called City Wok, and I worked as much as I could after school and shit. I bought us shitty food, shitty clothes, and did whatever I could to make sure my parents didn’t hurt my little sister and that she was safe and fed and had a way to and from school and all that good shit.”

Butters’ eyes are even wider, his heart sinking to the ground to hear of Kenny’s equally terrible childhood. He drags his body right besides Kenny’s and rest his head on his shoulder. “Ken, I’m so sorry… Do you not see them anymore?”

Grinning at the decreased proximity from the cute blond, Kenny peers down at him and shakes his head, “My dad left our mom when I was about seventeen, and then my mom left us. My sister lives with our brother and I send them most of my paycheck so they have more to live off of.”

“Wow… You’ve been through so much. You’re such a great person,” Butters exhales in genuine amazement.

Kenny snorts, “Hardly. I’m just doing what I gotta do. Isn’t everyone?”

“I guess…” Butters sighs. “I wonder if all parents are as bad as ours.”

“I hope not,” The smaller boy chuckles dryly. “I feel kinda guilty, to be honest. First time I met you, I probably would have guessed you were some spoiled, rich brat whose parents worship the ground they walk on. That’s what I always think about college kids. Especially ones whose puke I clean up.”

Butters smirks, “I would have never even thought twice about a janitor mopping up my classmate’s puke.”

With a far off smile, the boys both tear their eyes from the sky to one another. In this moment they have never felt more connected to another human being, and never felt so much understanding for anyone else. As if they had the same thoughts, they reached for one another’s hands and entwined their fingers. They say nothing, but spend the rest of their time glancing between one another and the tide pulling in and out of the bank of the sandy beach.


End file.
